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zoemathemataPrevious Chapter Here
Chuck stares at the horse as it goes by. The horse does not care.
Chuck’s never had a vision of the past before.
So that’s weird.
He’s googled his ‘situation’ and near as he could figure he’s precognitive. He sees the future.
Only now he’s seeing the past.
Does that make him post-cognitive? Is that even a word?
He tries not to let it distract him as he focuses on what he sees. He sees Collinsport. It’s not like he can tell it’s Collinsport on his own. But there’s a big sign over the general market that says “Collinsport General Market,” and similarly, “Collinsport Trust” for the bank. He walks around and is ignored. He walks past women in busy dresses, holding packages. Men with hats and canes. Carriages with horses.
He knows where he is going.
He’s going to Collinwood. He feels like he’s being pulled there.
Chuck’s visions are not like real life. They’re definitely other. Sometimes he smells stuff, sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he can touch stuff, other times his hand goes right through. Sometimes he can hear something clear as a bell and other times it’s like he’s listening to the world from the bottom of a barrel.
A very large, dark barrel with bad acoustics.
Tonight’s vision is one of the ‘look don’t touch’ kind. He tries to grab onto the branch of a tree as he passes by casually and his fingers slip through, never gaining purchase. He leaves the town behind and heads for Collinwood. At this point in time, Collinwood is outside of town. He ambles down a mucky road, thankful it’s not a tactile dream or he’s sure his feet would stick in the sucking mud and he’d lose his shoes. And then he’d be barefoot and the mud would squish between his toes and Chuck hates that feeling.
After a time, he ends up at Collinwood. It’s beautiful. Shiny and new looking in a way it doesn’t look now, even after the restoration. There are people bustling about; servants, footmen, gardeners and the like. It’s a hive of activity. He walks by them all without so much as a glance. He’s not here to see them.
He blinks and he’s in the drawing room.
He’s not alone.
Castiel is there and he turns to walk out the French doors and Chuck follows him. In the strange way of dreams, Castiel throws open the French doors and as they step through, they are not outside but upstairs, in Castiel’s bedroom. Not his bedroom now, not the master suite, but the smaller room that he lived in previously. It’s small in comparison to the master suite, but it’s huge compared to the size of bedrooms now. They sneak out of the small secret door in the closet. Chuck turns behind him and sees the living room just as they left it, and it seems perfectly normal in that dreamlike way that whatever you see, you accept as reality.
Chuck turns back to the bedroom and Dean is standing there smiling at Castiel. Only he’s not Dean. Not Dean now. He’s Dean then. Chuck feels like a pervy voyeur as he watches Castiel step forward assuredly and Dean and Castiel end tangled up in an embrace and kissing. Chuck studies the floorboards until he hears their voices.
“What’s wrong?” asks Dean. “You look…” his voice trails off as he studies Castiel. “Worried?” Dean guesses.
Castiel sighs and it’s a tired, regretful sound. “It’s nothing. Ruby.”
“She was here again?” Dean becomes agitated. “She’s dangerous.”
“She’s troubled.”
“Dangerous,” Dean repeats firmly. “I know you think she’s only crazy…”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“But it’s not just insanity that runs through her family’s veins. I’ve told you. I think she has witchcraft in her blood.”
Castiel pulls slightly away. “Don’t start that again. Can we not simply agree that she’s insane?”
“Insane but not harmless. I mean it, Cas. I’ve heard things about her and her family.” Dean shakes his head. “I don’t like how fixated she is on you.”
“She’ll grow out of it.”
“I don’t know,” replies Dean unconvinced.
“What would you have me do? I can’t turn her into the authorities for being troubled. Nor will I even consider turning her in as witch. Witchcraft or no, those witch-hunters are animals. They’re drunk on the blood and the pain and they do not care about anything other than torturing human flesh for the good of the soul.”
“No,” agrees Dean tiredly. “No, you’re right. Though I believe her to be a witch, I cannot stomach the thought of handing her over to hunters. God only knows who else in the town they will turn on if they take Ruby. Once those fanatics start, they’re unstoppable and would likely kill scores of innocents. I just… I don’t like that she comes here. If she were a man I would call her out.”
“Pistols at dawn?” Castiel jokes.
“It’s not a joking matter.”
“I know,” replies Castiel soothingly, his palms running up and down Dean’s arms.
“Let’s go away for a fortnight.”
Castiel considers it. “Where?”
“I don’t care. We’ll pack our bags and ready the horses and leave. We’ll tell them we’ve gone hunting or on a men’s vacation… I don’t care,” he repeats. “Just let’s go.”
Castiel studies Dean for a moment and then his lips break into a smile. “Yes. Let’s go.”
Time slides and Chuck can feel it pass over his skin like feathers being pulled against the grain of the fine hairs on his arm.
Dean and Castiel are riding their horses hard, trying to beat the storm back to Collinwood.
They don’t make it and end up trapped in a deluge of cold rain. Chuck watches as they crest over the hill on their animals and gallop back into the stables, rain slicking their way, making the grass shiny with water.
Chuck is in one of the stalls of the stable when Dean and Castiel enter, laughing and smiling as they pull their horses behind them.
Chuck’s not alone.
Ruby is there, hiding in one of the dark corners and though he’s never seen her before, he knows immediately it’s her. Dark hair falls down her shoulders, and her eyes glint in the half-light. Chuck watches her watch them. She is supremely focused, gaze unbreaking, tracking Dean and Castiel as they stow the gear for their horses, neither one caring that they are cold and wet. Their animals need tending first and they unerringly remove saddle, bridles and pads, rubbing the horses down with blankets, ensuring they are dry and warm, properly fed and watered before they consider themselves done.
Ruby doesn’t move, still as a lioness on the plains as it stalks prey. Make a move and you risk startling the other animals. She hardly breathes, but her eyes are fierce and Chuck sees blackness cloud over them, swirling liquid darkness that eats the white and the iris of her eyes.
He shouldn’t be cold, he’s not really there. But he is. He’s freezing.
Castiel and Dean are talking but Chuck can’t make out the words. He feels pulled in by Ruby’s eyes, a strange disconnect between where he was and where he is now. He can hear their voices from very far away.
Suddenly he’s beside Ruby, crouched down near the floor next to her. She doesn’t turn her head as she speaks, but she does lean in closer to him.
“He was always meant for me. I knew it from the moment I saw him, he should be mine. And I tried, I tried to make him love me, but there was always another. And I never could figure out who. This is how I found out. This was how I caught them. Living, laughing, loving,” she hisses and as Chuck looks from her to the men, he sees that Dean and Castiel have leaned in and are kissing. “And I knew,” Ruby continues, her voice calm and cold in the dark. “I knew he would never want me as long as he was still around. As long as he was still alive.”
Chuck looks back at Ruby, horrified. She hasn’t broken her stare from Castiel and Dean. In the darkness, Chuck can barely make out her profile, just the hint of a nose and chin, a wisp of hair, but her eyes glow like black coal, inky and unnatural.
“If I could make him go away, then Castiel would be alone. I could make him into a creature that could never die, turn him into something new, something stronger, and we would never be apart. I can’t do the magic on myself, but I can turn him and then he can turn me. Castiel would need someone after he was dead. He would need someone to hold onto and I would be that someone.”
“You can’t,” Chuck says weakly and Ruby finally turns from Dean and Castiel kissing and under the press of her eyes, Chuck flinches.
“I can, I did. You’ll see. You’ll see it all. You’ll understand what I did and how I did it.” She is fierce, spitting her words out with venom and hatred. Then, like her strings are cut, she softens and she’s pleading, almost crying. “But you know why, don’t you? You see why I’ll do it? Why I had to do it? I love him and he won’t love me back. He won’t. But he has to, I need him to, I need him. It hurts, it hurts so much and it won’t ever stop.”
She’s clawing at her dress, pulling the fabric, tearing the stitches.
“You can’t,” Chuck repeats. “Don’t, please don’t.”
She laughs and Chuck’s eyes dart over to Dean and Castiel who are also laughing and leaving the stables, oblivious to what’s going on in the dark corner. Chuck turns back to Ruby.
“It’s done. It’s all done and finished.” She stops and grabs at Chuck’s arms. “But I can’t see how it ended. Tell me how it ended. I see the blood and the bones, his body broken and twisted and I see his teeth and more blood but after that…nothing. I can’t see past the darkness. Tell me. Tell me how it ends.” Her nails are digging into Chuck’s arm and he’s frantically pulling back, trying to get away from her but she’s fierce and won’t let go.
“I… I don’t know! I haven’t seen it.”
“But you must know! You have to tell me. You have to tell me it all worked and I am with Castiel and we are together for eternity. We drink and we feed and we are always beautiful and in love. Tell me, please.”
“I can’t,” Chuck yelps, finally pulling his arm free. He falls backward onto his ass and he scrambles further away from Ruby. He doesn’t want to tell Ruby he’s never seen her in the future. Her future, his present. He feels, he knows if he does something terrible will happen to him at her hands. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “I don’t. I’m not… I’m not very strong. I can ‘t control what I see and I haven’t seen it.”
Her look changes from one of desperation to pity. “You can’t even control what you see?”
“No, I can’t.”
She laughs. “Oh! Oh you’re just a baby! You can’t even control your visions. Poor thing.”
“Yes, I’m a poor thing,” Chuck echoes.
She continues to laugh even as Chuck feels himself slide sideways through time again. This time it feels like being dragged by an undertow, strong and sure, and he doesn’t even want to fight it.
He blinks in bright sunlight. He’s gone from the darkness of the stables to a sunny day on the docks of Collinsport. Men bustle about and the spray of seawater is salty and damp on Chuck’s face. The sunlight dances off the water, creating darts of happy light. He hears Dean’s voice, loud and strong, and he follows it.
Dean is helping unload a ship. While he’s doing the same work as the other men, it’s clear he doesn’t quite belong. His clothes are finer, his attitude more sure and easy. Chuck realizes the other men must be Dean’s employees, for while he calls them all by their first name, they address him as ‘sir.’ He must be in charge of some kind of import-export business. The other men clearly like and respect him, and follow his orders without a thought.
They’ve just finished heaving a huge load of crates netted together off the ship with their massive pulley system and are swinging it out past the ship and toward the dock.
Chuck knows what will happen before it does.
Chuck’s eyes are pulled up to the fulcrum of the pulley where the rope is fraying.
Chuck can see Ruby, in his head, dancing, twirling herself in a circle. She’s singing softly as she holds a small rope in her hands and begins unwinding it.
The rope on the pulley on the docks begins to unwind faster.
Ruby’s singing turns to laughter and she pulls the strand of rope apart in her hands quickly. Spinning herself around in a happy skip, dark hair flying around her.
Chuck watches as part of the rope splits. The men are focused on the load the rope carries and not the rope itself. They don’t notice.
Ruby stops her twirling, breathless and gleeful and picks up a tiny doll. It has short, dark blonde hair sewn to its head, and a button affixed to the front of it. Chuck knows without seeing the button up close that if he checked Dean’s jacket, he’d find a button missing from it.
She may be insane, but Ruby is a witch and witchcraft is what she does best. She takes one last carefree and euphoric spin, her skirts reaching out far beyond her frame, her hair flying out with the momentum and in that moment she’s beautiful.
And horrible.
She smashes the doll on the desk and there’s a sickening crunch that makes Chuck flinch.
His eyes are drawn up to the fulcrum and he wants to shout, he wants to run but he can’t do either. He’s frozen as he sees the rope snap and the crates start to fall.
There’s shouting.
Yelling.
The crates are falling.
It’s nauseating.
Dizzying.
The last he sees of Dean he’s shoving another man violently out of harm’s way so hard the other man flies off the dock and into the water.
The crates land on him and it’s the most awful sound Chuck has ever heard.
There’s a heartbeat of stillness and silence and then like everyone has been jolted with electricity at the same time they snap into action and men are shouting and running and they’re pulling broken wood boxes off Dean’s body (Dean’s body) and the blood… They’ve got him uncovered and blood is already running from his nose and his mouth and his ears. He’s not moving and Chuck thinks he’s already dead.
He prays he’s already dead.
Chuck slides through time and space again, wishing that he could leave the sight of Dean broken and bloody behind him when he shifted but it dives into his brain and holds on like a spiked sliver sliding into flesh, unable to be removed without taking chunks with it.
Dean has been moved to Collinwood. Chuck finds himself in the same room as Dean. Dean’s broken body is stretched out on a small bed. Chuck has to remind himself he’s dreaming of the past and they probably didn’t realize the amount of damage they did moving Dean, jostling him through the streets of Collinsport, moving him up the stairs of Collinwood. One of the men from the docks stands in the doorway, tight-faced and grim, keeping watch. The housekeeper is a stern faced yet beautiful woman and she is gentle as she fixes the pillows around Dean’s head and she runs a hand down his face. She knows him, Chuck realizes. She touches Dean’s arm, the unmangled one, and lightly holds his fingers, and Chuck sees she likes him too. She smoothes his brow and leans in close to whisper in his ear. It’s not loud enough that the dock foreman can hear, but it is loud enough for Chuck to listen in.
“I’ve sent the footmen to fetch Castiel. He’s coming. I know he’s coming as fast as he can. Please wait for him, if you can. Please.”
She knows Chuck realizes. She knows about Dean and Castiel.
Doctor Singer arrives and the foreman is ushered outside. The housekeeper, Ellen, stands back and lets him begin his examination. He runs his hands over all of Dean’s body and his face gets more and more bleak as he does. He rests his ear on Dean’s chest for a few rattly breaths and he peels Dean’s eyelids back for a look at his irises. The way Dean’s body moves as it’s prodded and poked… it’s broken. Chuck turns away from the grisly sight, staring out the small window at the expanse of the Collinwood estate.
After a time, Chuck can hear the loud boom of the front door downstairs being thrown open and then the fast staccato of Castiel’s boots on the marble hallway and wooden stairs as he runs. He reaches the room with Dean, Singer and Ellen and pushes the door open. Singer is pulling a blanket up and over Dean to his shoulders.
“What happened?” Castiel’s out of breath and wide-eyed and then his eyes fix on Dean, laid out, pale, unmoving.
The foreman is behind Castiel and he coughs to get his attention but Castiel doesn’t turn around, doesn’t take his eyes off Dean.
“A rope, it snapped. The entire lot came down on him. He saved Jeremiah’s life, but he… there wasn’t time…”
The doctor swallows and turns to Ellen.
“Perhaps, if you would be so kind and you know the information, letters should be sent to his family immediately.”
“Yes,” Ellen nods, eyes flitting over to Dean, then Castiel and back to the doctor.
“If possible, they should make arrangements to come presently with haste.”
Ellen nods again. “I will see it done.” She moves to leave but pauses by Castiel, her hand coming out to rest on his, her fingers tightening, her eyes dark and liquid. Castiel spares her a quick glance and what he sees in her eyes (death, death, death has come calling) makes his breath hitch.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers and she is gone, the door shutting softly behind her.
Castiel blinks rapidly in succession, red lines beginning to thread through the whites of his eyes, unshed tears of shock and disbelief making the blue of his irises painfully bright and clear. He stares at Doctor Singer who is steeling himself.
Castiel starts shaking his head before the doctor even starts.
“What must be done?” Castiel asks. It sounds like he’s speaking with a barrel of rocks on his chest, the words being forced out painfully. “Tell me and I’ll see to it.”
“My boy,” Singer starts and Castiel takes a step away from him.
“No.”
“His back is broken. As are both his legs.”
“He’s still alive.”
“I hope for his sake he does not stay that way for long.”
Castiel squeezes his eyes shut and Chuck wishes he were anywhere else but trapped in this room.
“Don’t say that!”
Doctor Singer does not flinch at the volume nor the fist shaking in his face. “He’s broken some of his ribs as well as his collarbone and most of his left arm although it’s hardly of consequence at this point. His internal structure… the damage that was inflicted… he is beyond medicine.”
“No, there must be something. You will send word to Boston. They have more knowledgeable practitioners there. I can pay them whatever they wish.” Castiel’s voice has a keening quality to it that makes the hairs on Chuck’s neck stand up.
“I will send for them if you so desire, but they will not be able to help.”
Castiel shakes his head again and it’s the frantic movements of a person trying desperately to make their brain process something it can’t. He pushes his hands through his hair, making it stick out at impossible angles. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and pushes hard against the soft tissue.
Doctor Singer takes a small bottle with a dropper out of his bag and sets it on the nightstand.
“If he wakes, he will most likely be in a great deal of pain. The laudanum will help. I will prepare a stronger dose immediately and bring it over as soon as it’s ready. This one wasn’t meant for… it’s not enough. When I bring the new batch tomorrow morning, there is… You need not worry about administering too much.” Doctor Singer gives him a pointed look.
Castiel’s hands are at his side and he’s staring at the small bottle on the nightstand like it’s poison. The doctor’s words may be lost on Castiel but Chuck hears the message loud and clear.
“It would be best for him if he did not wake,” the doctor finishes. Castiel turns his face away.
Doctor Singer pauses at the door, as though there’s more he wants to say but he leaves without making a sound.
Chuck doesn’t know where to look as Castiel falls to his knees beside the bed and starts sobbing soundlessly. It’s horrible to watch. His chest heaves, his palms pressed hard to the floor but no sound escapes. At first, it’s like his grief is so painful he cannot even form tears and it’s just this dreadful, dry crying jag, shoulders shaking, mouth agape. Castiel lungs are pushing out wretched gags and he can’t even stop to breathe in. Just when Chuck thinks Castiel will pass out from lack of oxygen, he pulls in a harsh breath and starts the process all over again, only now there are tears.
Chuck didn’t know the body could cry like that without breaking.
Castiel’s forehead is resting on the floor, his body bent in half. One of his hands snakes up over the side of the bed, finds Dean’s fingers and holds on.
Chuck wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He can barely watch but he feels like he has to, like his sole purpose in coming back here, to this moment, to this hideous, ghastly moment, is to bear witness.
If Castiel could stand to live through it, then Chuck can stand to watch.
He’s not sure how much time passes, how long Castiel stays curled up on the floor, his fingers holding onto Dean’s. The sky has gone dark with night, the moon low and yellow in the sky. A harvest moon. It fills Chuck with terror to see it so large and looming. He can understand why ancient man feared the sky.
The soundless, wracking sobs have shifted to silent, streaming tears. Castiel’s on his side now, face pressed into the floorboards, tears running over the bridge of his nose and out of the corner of his eyes and seeping into the wood. Chuck’s so focused on Castiel that he misses Dean’s fingers twitching around Castiel’s.
Castiel’s on his knees and leaning over Dean so fast it’s like he’s been struck by lightning. Dean’s green eyes are only half open but they’ve immediately found Castiel and are focused on him. Dean’s lips are moving but no sound comes out.
Castiel knows what questions Dean would ask first and is answering without even having to hear them. “You’re at Collinwood. No one else was hurt.”
Dean closes his eyes in understanding and relief. When he opens them again, they’ve retained their precision focus on Castiel. His fingers tighten slightly on Castiel’s and Castiel leans in closer, tilting his head to place his ear close to Dean’s lips. In the stillness of the room, the oppressive quiet, Chuck can hear Dean’s question easily.
Dying?
Castiel can’t answer. His face contorts with emotion and he drops his head to the mattress wordlessly. Dean blinks a few times as he processes the non-verbal response. His arm is the one part of him that’s not crushed or broken and he’s able to pull his fingers out of Castiel’s grasp so that he can push them into the dark softness of Castiel’s hair and massage his fingertips into Castiel’s scalp.
Castiel sits up slowly and traps Dean’s uninjured hand between his own and holds it close to his lips.
“The doctor left laudanum. Do you need some?”
Yes.
Castiel takes the small bottle and dropper and carefully places small liquid pearls into Dean’s mouth. His hands shake as he places the bottle back on the nightstand. Dean doesn’t sleep so much as drift in and out of consciousness. The night is long, eerily so, broken up only by Ellen bringing in pitchers of both hot and cold water and some dinner for Castiel. Ellen pulls a chair over close to the bed for Castiel and he wipes Dean’s face with a hot cloth and uses a separate clean cloth to wet his lips and tongue with cold water.
He leaves his dinner untouched on the dresser.
Dean stirs every so often and Castiel gives him additional laudanum. Chuck doesn’t think it dulls the pain so much as clouds over Dean’s senses. Dean’s breathing has a wet rattle to it, clotty and dark. A few times he’s heaved up a load of blood and it spills out of his mouth and over his lips, staining his teeth red. Castiel says nothing as he cleans Dean up carefully.
Chuck wishes Dean would die. He knows that’s how this ends. He just didn’t expect it to take so long. Dean makes it through the night and when the sun starts peeking into the sky, Chuck stands by the window and watches it rise. He feels like it shouldn’t be a sunny day. It shouldn’t promise to be such a nice day with Dean’s wet breathing echoing through his ears.
Doctor Singer comes by sometime after breakfast which consisted of a plate of toast and tea that Castiel didn’t even glance at. Singer’s surprise and disappointment that Dean is still alive is visible on his face. Chuck knows they’re all thinking the same thing. Ellen, Singer and himself. Everyone except Castiel.
They’re all wishing Dean would hurry up and die.
Singer sets a new bottle on the nightstand.
“This solution is much stronger than the other one,” he says gruffly and Chuck can see the doctor willing to make himself understood without saying the words out loud. “If you give the same amount… well, at this point, it would help him the most.”
Castiel doesn’t look up at the doctor, but his eyes are fixed on both small bottles on the worn wood of the nightstand. Doctor Singer pauses to say something to Ellen who is standing just outside the doorway, watching silently. She nods grimly as the doctor takes his leaves. She comes to stand behind Castiel and places her hand on his shoulder. He’s slumped down in the chair, legs splayed out at awkward angles. It’s clear from his eyes that he hasn’t slept all night. They are red-rimmed and bright, the blue of his irises painfully stark.
“You should rest,” says Ellen softly, calmly. “And eat something. I will have the cook prepare anything you wish.”
“I can’t… I’m not hungry.”
“Go rest. I will stay with him.”
“If I leave and he… while I’m gone if he…”
Her knuckles turn white as her grip on his shoulder increases. “I can have the footmen bring a bed in here.”
His hand comes up to rest over hers. “No, the chair is fine.”
His fingers tighten over hers for a moment and Chuck sees something terrible flash over Castiel’s eyes and a sick dread curls in Chuck’s stomach.
“There is perhaps something… I do not… I must leave for a while.”
“Yes,” Ellen agrees. “Go to your quarters and I will stay with him.”
“No, I must go out.” Castiel stands and sways slightly until his legs steady underneath him. “You will stay with him?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t leave him. Don’t leave him alone,” Castiel pleads and Ellen shakes her head.
“I will not.”
Castiel leans over Dean and whispers in his ear. “Please wait for me. I… there may be… you must wait for me to return.”
Time slides again and Chuck goes with it willingly, relieved to be leaving Dean’s deathbed behind him.
Castiel is pounding on a door, fist high and strong and he’s yelling.
“Ruby! Let me in! Ruby!”
A harried butler answers the door and Castiel pushes him aside and strides in screaming Ruby’s name. She appears at the top of the stairs, looking calm and serene and Castiel takes the stairs three at a time and in a moment he’s at the top, crushing her arms in a painful grip.
“You know things, do you not? You can do things.” He pulls her close to him and hisses. “Unnatural things.”
She smiles at him and with a wave dismisses the butler. “It’s alright, Forster. Mr. Collins and I have business.”
The butler crosses himself and scurries off, eager to be away from his deranged mistress. Ruby starts walking backward and beckons Castiel to follow her with the crook of her finger.
When they enter the room, Castiel gasps at what he sees and even though Chuck’s not really there, Chuck’s just dreaming, he nearly pukes.
The stench is horrible. Death, decay, rotting things. There’s a table in one corner with a copper bowl and small animal bones are strewn about, blood mixed in. There’s a small cage in another corner and inside it are rats, clawing overtop of one another making horrid squeaking noises in the dark.
The room is nearly void of light save for a few candelabra burning inside chalk circles etched with strange symbols. Ruby has a dark alter set up at the far end of the room. A cross hangs upside down over it and strange words are inscribed on the black banners that hang over it. Chuck thinks that no matter what the witch trials would have done to Ruby, they should have just handed her over.
Like the butler downstairs, Castiel crosses himself.
“My God,” he murmurs.
“Oh you won’t find him here. I’ve brought just about every other creature of power to bow before me but not him, never him. He’s not the helpful sort.” She steps over to her alter, offers it a little bow and then turns to face Castiel, draping her arms across the alter table. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“You know what has happened.”
She makes a tut-tut sound. “Yes, terrible accident. I hear he still lives. He must be strong.”
Castiel is too exhausted and emotionally overrun to hear the venom in her voice, but Chuck hears it. Chuck sees how her fingers clench and unclench almost against her will.
“Heal him. Make him live. Can you do it?”
She pauses like she’s thinking, hips swaying girlishly. “Possibly. It would take very powerful magic. But…” she levels her dark eyes at him. “What’s my return?”
“I’ll marry you,” Castiel says without hesitation, the words snapped out immediately. He would promise anything to save Dean, Chuck realizes and he already made his decision before he came here.
Ruby smiles. “Deal.”
Chuck shivers and at this point, even though he knows he’s not really there, he’s just watching, he crosses himself as well.
“All deals must be sealed,” Ruby says, leaning further forward.
“How?” Castiel barks. He’s not interested in prolonging anything. He needs to save Dean and whatever he needs to do, he’s prepared.
“A kiss.”
He grimaces slightly at that but grabs her brutally around the waist and presses his lips hard to hers. She flings her arms around him enthusiastically and pulls him close, pushing her breasts into his chest.
He shoves her away and she stumbles slight, a smile playing on her lips.
“I always knew that underneath your gentlemanly exterior you would like it rough.”
“Shut up and get to work.”
***
Ruby’s chanting over the copper bowl. She threw in a melange of items, all fetid and rotten, and stirred them with her extra long pinky nail. The nail makes a horrible scratching sound against the copper that leaves Chuck cringing in the corner. Castiel is pacing back and forth, trying not to let his eyes focus on any of Ruby’s dark paraphernalia. Ruby lights some dead moss from a candle and tosses the smoldering mess into the chunky, soupy mixture she has in the bow.
Chuck prays really hard that Castiel will not have to drink it, but it doesn’t look good.
Ruby has two copper chalices and she scoops up some of soppy liquid into one, a long string of something hanging over the edge of the cup and Ruby plucks it free and it lands back in the copper bowl with a ‘thwack.’
Chuck dry heaves a little.
She pours the mixture from one chalice to the other as she chants. Chuck thinks it might be Latin or something similar to Latin. Every so often it’s like he thinks he almost understands the words.
Ruby cuts a lock of her hair, sets it alight too and tosses it into the copper bowl.
It sizzles and bubbles as it hits and a wet air pocket seeps up through the mess and pops with a mucky ‘thwop.’
Chuck dry heaves again.
Ruby pours the contents of both chalices back into the copper bowl and beckons Castiel over. He stands off to the side of her alter, his mouth is turned down in grim distaste but also determination. She passes him one of the chalices.
Oh shit, thinks Chuck. He is going to have to drink it.
Ruby doesn’t say anything to Castiel but indicates with a jerk of her head that he should hold the chalice. She steps off to the side and then grips his hip, moving him over into position in front of the altar. She places his other hand on the other chalice.
She’s still chanting softly as she steps over to the rat cage.
Chuck gets a little bit of bile in his throat this time when he heaves. Castiel doesn’t move.
Ruby pulls two of the squirming, squealing rats out of the cage. She pets them fondly and brings them over to the altar.
She sets one down and quick as a flash, impales its tail with a knife, keeping it in one spot on the altar. Castiel’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t flinch. Ruby takes the other rat, and with the knife, slits its throat quickly, holding it over the copper bowl and draining it. It squirms and writhes for a while and with a cruel twist of her wrist, Ruby wrings it out like a dishcloth, bobbing it up and down a few times to get all the blood.
Chuck feels dizzy.
Ruby stands in front of the altar, Castiel behind it. She places one hand on each of his, on the chalice. She keeps chanting as she looks at him and guides one of his hands to scoop up the rank liquid with the chalice and then pour it into the other one. They pour back and forth nine times and then empty both back into the copper bowl.
“Now, drink three times from the bowl.”
Chuck feels his lip break out in a cold, sick sweat.
Castiel doesn’t flinch. He picks up the bowl with both hands assuredly and takes three drinks from the bowl. He sets it down and has to put a fist over his mouth to keep the liquid from coming back up.
He looks at Ruby questioningly.
“Kill the rat by biting its neck and drinking the blood.”
Castiel does flinch this time but he takes the knife out of the rat’s tail, picks up the twisting creature, and holds in front of himself. His eyes flick back over to Ruby, painfully blue and intense. She nods once.
He snaps his teeth on the rat and breaks the skin. It shrieks loudly. Blood runs down his chin and he stares at Ruby.
Chuck vomits.
The rat falls silent and Castiel puts it back down on the altar. He stumbles backward, wipes at his face with the back of his hand and smears blood across it. He falls to the ground. Ruby steps around the altar and stands over him.
“I think it will hurt. I think it will hurt quite a bit actually.”
Castiel’s limbs are folding in on themselves, harsh spasms force them back out again. His head lolls back and smacks the floor hard. It’s like a grand-mal seizure. He thrashes, his fingers locked in a painful curl, his back arching backward, gagging noises coming from his lips and he starts to foam at the mouth.
Through it all Ruby stands over him and watches calmly. She hardly blinks and isn’t even tense.
Castiel bends in half and jerks backward again, popping noises coming from his spine.
He stops.
It’s silent.
Chuck can’t even hear Castiel breathing.
Chuck realizes that’s because Castiel isn’t breathing.
Ruby leans over him with the curious face of a scholar puzzling out a problem.
Castiel sits up and Ruby jumps back slightly.
“Smile for me, lover.”
He does.
His fangs are white in the candlelight and razor sharp. His tongue darts out across them and he cuts it on the sharp edges.
Ruby claps her hands together gleefully and spins herself in a circle. “It worked, it worked, it worked,” she squeals happily.
She sounds like the rat did.
Castiel is turning his hands over, examining them like he’s never seen them before. He looks down at his body, then back at Ruby. In the time it takes Chuck to blink, Castiel is on his feet and looming. He seems taller, fiercer. Ruby leans back away from him as he towers over her, her eyes darting around quickly, checking for an escape route. She trembles slightly as if she’s just realized what she’s done. She’s turned an enemy into a predator, and now she’s trapped in a room with him. The air feels like sharp edges against Chuck’s skin.
Castiel’s eyes appear to glow in the dark, eerie blue and clear. Ruby’s fascinated with them, her own dark irises darting back and forth staring at them. Castiel grabs Ruby’s arms and she flinches. Ruby has a small dagger in her hands and she holds it up to Castiel.
“Cut your hand.”
He grabs it and slices the palm of his hand open easily. They both watch in fascination as the wound seals itself shut and his blood soaks back into his skin. Ruby claps her hands again and squeals, her earlier fear forgotten
Castiel throws the knife and it embeds itself unerringly in the window sill, its hilt vibrating slightly.
“Now, tell me how to heal him.”
***
It’s dark now. Castiel lost hours in Ruby’s lair.
Castiel has blood down the front of his shirt and the footmen stare at him in horror as he runs up the stairs. Ellen jumps up from the chair where she has been keeping vigil since Castiel left.
“Oh. Sweet Jesus, what have you done?” she whispers, her hands covering her lips.
“Leave.”
She makes the sign of the cross over herself as well and Chuck feels frantic laughter bubble up in his chest. If that gesture made a lick of difference, they wouldn't be in this mess. Castiel kneels beside the bed and carefully grabs Dean by his one good shoulder.
“Dean.”
Silence.
”Dean.”
Chuck feels the power behind his voice. He sees Castiel’s eyes widen as he realizes it too. Dean’s eyelids flicker and then his lids open halfway. As before, his eyes find Castiel immediately. Dean’s eyes are cloudy and confused at first and then he sees the difference in his lover and they widen slightly.
He hasn’t enough breath to form sound and his lips barely move, but his words seem painfully clear enough.
What have you done?
Castiel’s fingers tighten on Dean’s shoulder and tears start to fall from Castiel’s eyes.
“I had to. To save you. I can save you now. But I need you to tell me you want this. I need you to tell me…” His breath hitches.
What?
Castiel pulls his lips back from his teeth and Dean sees the fangs. He blinks once, then again.
Ruby.
“Please. Please, I had to. I can’t… You can’t… Please, tell me yes. Say yes.”
He’s openly sobbing now, fat tears rolling down his cheek and landing on the bed. He drops his head to the mattress and his shoulders shake. As before, Dean cards his fingers through his hair, slower this time, even this small effort becoming too much. Castiel is begging Dean still, broken, half formed words of pleading being pushed out of his lips. Dean’s fingers tighten imperceptibly on Castiel’s dark hair and Castiel turns his bloodshot blue eyes back to Dean.
Yes.
Castiel leans forward quickly and places a fierce kiss on Dean’s lips. He pulls back and threads his fingers through Dean’s hair.
“I have to…,” he looks away, ashamed. “I have to drink from you.”
Dean closes his eyes and turns his head slightly, baring his neck as much as possible for him in his broken state. Castiel lowers his lips to Dean’s neck and places a rather chaste kiss on the skin, lips resting for a moment.
And then he bites.
Dean’s body stiffens in a natural response, and a moan of pain escapes his lips. Chuck can’t tell if it’s from the bite or if it’s from the rest of his body. Dean’s good hand comes up and cradles Castiel’s head, holding him close.
Finally, Chuck’s not sure how long it takes, Dean’s hand falls away from Castiel’s head, off the side of the mattress.
Minutes later, Castiel raises up, blood trailing down his chin. It’s pooled in the dip between Dean’s neck and shoulder, soaking the mattress through.
Castiel pulls his sleeve up, bites his own wrist and holds it over Dean’s lips, letting turgid globes of red drip past the parted skin. He waits.
Nothing happens.
Castiel waits longer.
Silence fills the room where there are no longer any sets of living lungs nor any living hearts beating. Just the dead and the undead.
Castiel bites at his wrist again, slashing open huge gaping wounds that leak black-red down his arm. He presses the bloody mess against Dean’s lips, smearing crimson across his sick-pale face.
He grabs Dean’s face harshly on either side and shakes him. He slaps him. He grips both shoulders, broken and unbroken and pulls him upright. His head lolls backward at a horrid angle, and his mouth falls open.
Dean is dead.
Castiel’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly and he jerks Dean toward him and holds him tightly. He sucks in air soundlessly and then screams.
***
They are back at Ruby’s and this time there’s murder in Castiel’s voice as he screams her name. He breaks down the door, throwing it aside like it’s made of paper. The butler gets pushed aside, falling on the floor with a thud and he scrambles backward and out of the way. At the top of the stairs, Ruby sees Castiel’s face and she starts back-peddling, her eyes wide and fearful.
“No! No you don’t understand! I had to!” she screams and she turns and starts running for her witchcraft room. She swivels her head to look behind her and doesn’t see Castiel and then she runs right into him.
Vampire quick now, he managed to get ahead of her and catch her. He’s got her cruelly by the arms and is squeezing.
“Ruby,” he breathes and Ruby shivers.
“No, you don’t understand. We couldn’t be together as long as he was alive. Don’t you see? So it had to be done, it had to be done!” She’s shrieking, high-pitched and off-key.
He drags her to her black alter and pushes her down on her knees. He grabs a fistful of her hair and twists painfully.
“Do you think any of them will come to your rescue now? Shall we wait to see who shows up to answer your begging?”
She’s clawing at his hands, nails raking down his skin leaving long trails that don’t even hurt him.
“But I did it for you, I did it for us. We can be together now, don’t you see? I’ll tell you how to turn me and I’ll tell you the truth this time and then we can always be together. Please”
He’s making soft shushing noises and stroking the side of her face, even as he grips her hair in a harsh fist.
“Promise me something,” he says softly.
“Yes! Anything, please, I’ll tell you how and we can be together. We’ll be unstoppable, you’ll see.”
He bends down and hisses in her ear, fangs out and flashing. “Promise me when you get to hell, you’ll never stop screaming.”
He snaps her neck before she can make another sound. She falls like a rag doll and he pushes her over in a graceless heap.
He pulls over the first candelabra he finds and it clatters to the floor. He takes the next one and sets fire to the banners hanging over the altar and then topples the entire altar onto its side, sending dark material flying everywhere. Black curtains hanging over every window blocking out the light catch flame easily and within minutes, the entire room is ablaze.
Castiel strides out of the room and down the stairs casually, stopping to speak to the wide-eyed butler who is gasping and stammering in shock at the front door.
“Your mistress is dead. I hope she burns for eternity.”
And that’s when Chuck wakes up.
Next Chapter - 10 - Concatenation
Chuck stares at the horse as it goes by. The horse does not care.
Chuck’s never had a vision of the past before.
So that’s weird.
He’s googled his ‘situation’ and near as he could figure he’s precognitive. He sees the future.
Only now he’s seeing the past.
Does that make him post-cognitive? Is that even a word?
He tries not to let it distract him as he focuses on what he sees. He sees Collinsport. It’s not like he can tell it’s Collinsport on his own. But there’s a big sign over the general market that says “Collinsport General Market,” and similarly, “Collinsport Trust” for the bank. He walks around and is ignored. He walks past women in busy dresses, holding packages. Men with hats and canes. Carriages with horses.
He knows where he is going.
He’s going to Collinwood. He feels like he’s being pulled there.
Chuck’s visions are not like real life. They’re definitely other. Sometimes he smells stuff, sometimes he doesn’t. Sometimes he can touch stuff, other times his hand goes right through. Sometimes he can hear something clear as a bell and other times it’s like he’s listening to the world from the bottom of a barrel.
A very large, dark barrel with bad acoustics.
Tonight’s vision is one of the ‘look don’t touch’ kind. He tries to grab onto the branch of a tree as he passes by casually and his fingers slip through, never gaining purchase. He leaves the town behind and heads for Collinwood. At this point in time, Collinwood is outside of town. He ambles down a mucky road, thankful it’s not a tactile dream or he’s sure his feet would stick in the sucking mud and he’d lose his shoes. And then he’d be barefoot and the mud would squish between his toes and Chuck hates that feeling.
After a time, he ends up at Collinwood. It’s beautiful. Shiny and new looking in a way it doesn’t look now, even after the restoration. There are people bustling about; servants, footmen, gardeners and the like. It’s a hive of activity. He walks by them all without so much as a glance. He’s not here to see them.
He blinks and he’s in the drawing room.
He’s not alone.
Castiel is there and he turns to walk out the French doors and Chuck follows him. In the strange way of dreams, Castiel throws open the French doors and as they step through, they are not outside but upstairs, in Castiel’s bedroom. Not his bedroom now, not the master suite, but the smaller room that he lived in previously. It’s small in comparison to the master suite, but it’s huge compared to the size of bedrooms now. They sneak out of the small secret door in the closet. Chuck turns behind him and sees the living room just as they left it, and it seems perfectly normal in that dreamlike way that whatever you see, you accept as reality.
Chuck turns back to the bedroom and Dean is standing there smiling at Castiel. Only he’s not Dean. Not Dean now. He’s Dean then. Chuck feels like a pervy voyeur as he watches Castiel step forward assuredly and Dean and Castiel end tangled up in an embrace and kissing. Chuck studies the floorboards until he hears their voices.
“What’s wrong?” asks Dean. “You look…” his voice trails off as he studies Castiel. “Worried?” Dean guesses.
Castiel sighs and it’s a tired, regretful sound. “It’s nothing. Ruby.”
“She was here again?” Dean becomes agitated. “She’s dangerous.”
“She’s troubled.”
“Dangerous,” Dean repeats firmly. “I know you think she’s only crazy…”
“Isn’t that enough?”
“But it’s not just insanity that runs through her family’s veins. I’ve told you. I think she has witchcraft in her blood.”
Castiel pulls slightly away. “Don’t start that again. Can we not simply agree that she’s insane?”
“Insane but not harmless. I mean it, Cas. I’ve heard things about her and her family.” Dean shakes his head. “I don’t like how fixated she is on you.”
“She’ll grow out of it.”
“I don’t know,” replies Dean unconvinced.
“What would you have me do? I can’t turn her into the authorities for being troubled. Nor will I even consider turning her in as witch. Witchcraft or no, those witch-hunters are animals. They’re drunk on the blood and the pain and they do not care about anything other than torturing human flesh for the good of the soul.”
“No,” agrees Dean tiredly. “No, you’re right. Though I believe her to be a witch, I cannot stomach the thought of handing her over to hunters. God only knows who else in the town they will turn on if they take Ruby. Once those fanatics start, they’re unstoppable and would likely kill scores of innocents. I just… I don’t like that she comes here. If she were a man I would call her out.”
“Pistols at dawn?” Castiel jokes.
“It’s not a joking matter.”
“I know,” replies Castiel soothingly, his palms running up and down Dean’s arms.
“Let’s go away for a fortnight.”
Castiel considers it. “Where?”
“I don’t care. We’ll pack our bags and ready the horses and leave. We’ll tell them we’ve gone hunting or on a men’s vacation… I don’t care,” he repeats. “Just let’s go.”
Castiel studies Dean for a moment and then his lips break into a smile. “Yes. Let’s go.”
Time slides and Chuck can feel it pass over his skin like feathers being pulled against the grain of the fine hairs on his arm.
Dean and Castiel are riding their horses hard, trying to beat the storm back to Collinwood.
They don’t make it and end up trapped in a deluge of cold rain. Chuck watches as they crest over the hill on their animals and gallop back into the stables, rain slicking their way, making the grass shiny with water.
Chuck is in one of the stalls of the stable when Dean and Castiel enter, laughing and smiling as they pull their horses behind them.
Chuck’s not alone.
Ruby is there, hiding in one of the dark corners and though he’s never seen her before, he knows immediately it’s her. Dark hair falls down her shoulders, and her eyes glint in the half-light. Chuck watches her watch them. She is supremely focused, gaze unbreaking, tracking Dean and Castiel as they stow the gear for their horses, neither one caring that they are cold and wet. Their animals need tending first and they unerringly remove saddle, bridles and pads, rubbing the horses down with blankets, ensuring they are dry and warm, properly fed and watered before they consider themselves done.
Ruby doesn’t move, still as a lioness on the plains as it stalks prey. Make a move and you risk startling the other animals. She hardly breathes, but her eyes are fierce and Chuck sees blackness cloud over them, swirling liquid darkness that eats the white and the iris of her eyes.
He shouldn’t be cold, he’s not really there. But he is. He’s freezing.
Castiel and Dean are talking but Chuck can’t make out the words. He feels pulled in by Ruby’s eyes, a strange disconnect between where he was and where he is now. He can hear their voices from very far away.
Suddenly he’s beside Ruby, crouched down near the floor next to her. She doesn’t turn her head as she speaks, but she does lean in closer to him.
“He was always meant for me. I knew it from the moment I saw him, he should be mine. And I tried, I tried to make him love me, but there was always another. And I never could figure out who. This is how I found out. This was how I caught them. Living, laughing, loving,” she hisses and as Chuck looks from her to the men, he sees that Dean and Castiel have leaned in and are kissing. “And I knew,” Ruby continues, her voice calm and cold in the dark. “I knew he would never want me as long as he was still around. As long as he was still alive.”
Chuck looks back at Ruby, horrified. She hasn’t broken her stare from Castiel and Dean. In the darkness, Chuck can barely make out her profile, just the hint of a nose and chin, a wisp of hair, but her eyes glow like black coal, inky and unnatural.
“If I could make him go away, then Castiel would be alone. I could make him into a creature that could never die, turn him into something new, something stronger, and we would never be apart. I can’t do the magic on myself, but I can turn him and then he can turn me. Castiel would need someone after he was dead. He would need someone to hold onto and I would be that someone.”
“You can’t,” Chuck says weakly and Ruby finally turns from Dean and Castiel kissing and under the press of her eyes, Chuck flinches.
“I can, I did. You’ll see. You’ll see it all. You’ll understand what I did and how I did it.” She is fierce, spitting her words out with venom and hatred. Then, like her strings are cut, she softens and she’s pleading, almost crying. “But you know why, don’t you? You see why I’ll do it? Why I had to do it? I love him and he won’t love me back. He won’t. But he has to, I need him to, I need him. It hurts, it hurts so much and it won’t ever stop.”
She’s clawing at her dress, pulling the fabric, tearing the stitches.
“You can’t,” Chuck repeats. “Don’t, please don’t.”
She laughs and Chuck’s eyes dart over to Dean and Castiel who are also laughing and leaving the stables, oblivious to what’s going on in the dark corner. Chuck turns back to Ruby.
“It’s done. It’s all done and finished.” She stops and grabs at Chuck’s arms. “But I can’t see how it ended. Tell me how it ended. I see the blood and the bones, his body broken and twisted and I see his teeth and more blood but after that…nothing. I can’t see past the darkness. Tell me. Tell me how it ends.” Her nails are digging into Chuck’s arm and he’s frantically pulling back, trying to get away from her but she’s fierce and won’t let go.
“I… I don’t know! I haven’t seen it.”
“But you must know! You have to tell me. You have to tell me it all worked and I am with Castiel and we are together for eternity. We drink and we feed and we are always beautiful and in love. Tell me, please.”
“I can’t,” Chuck yelps, finally pulling his arm free. He falls backward onto his ass and he scrambles further away from Ruby. He doesn’t want to tell Ruby he’s never seen her in the future. Her future, his present. He feels, he knows if he does something terrible will happen to him at her hands. “I don’t know,” he repeats. “I don’t. I’m not… I’m not very strong. I can ‘t control what I see and I haven’t seen it.”
Her look changes from one of desperation to pity. “You can’t even control what you see?”
“No, I can’t.”
She laughs. “Oh! Oh you’re just a baby! You can’t even control your visions. Poor thing.”
“Yes, I’m a poor thing,” Chuck echoes.
She continues to laugh even as Chuck feels himself slide sideways through time again. This time it feels like being dragged by an undertow, strong and sure, and he doesn’t even want to fight it.
He blinks in bright sunlight. He’s gone from the darkness of the stables to a sunny day on the docks of Collinsport. Men bustle about and the spray of seawater is salty and damp on Chuck’s face. The sunlight dances off the water, creating darts of happy light. He hears Dean’s voice, loud and strong, and he follows it.
Dean is helping unload a ship. While he’s doing the same work as the other men, it’s clear he doesn’t quite belong. His clothes are finer, his attitude more sure and easy. Chuck realizes the other men must be Dean’s employees, for while he calls them all by their first name, they address him as ‘sir.’ He must be in charge of some kind of import-export business. The other men clearly like and respect him, and follow his orders without a thought.
They’ve just finished heaving a huge load of crates netted together off the ship with their massive pulley system and are swinging it out past the ship and toward the dock.
Chuck knows what will happen before it does.
Chuck’s eyes are pulled up to the fulcrum of the pulley where the rope is fraying.
Chuck can see Ruby, in his head, dancing, twirling herself in a circle. She’s singing softly as she holds a small rope in her hands and begins unwinding it.
The rope on the pulley on the docks begins to unwind faster.
Ruby’s singing turns to laughter and she pulls the strand of rope apart in her hands quickly. Spinning herself around in a happy skip, dark hair flying around her.
Chuck watches as part of the rope splits. The men are focused on the load the rope carries and not the rope itself. They don’t notice.
Ruby stops her twirling, breathless and gleeful and picks up a tiny doll. It has short, dark blonde hair sewn to its head, and a button affixed to the front of it. Chuck knows without seeing the button up close that if he checked Dean’s jacket, he’d find a button missing from it.
She may be insane, but Ruby is a witch and witchcraft is what she does best. She takes one last carefree and euphoric spin, her skirts reaching out far beyond her frame, her hair flying out with the momentum and in that moment she’s beautiful.
And horrible.
She smashes the doll on the desk and there’s a sickening crunch that makes Chuck flinch.
His eyes are drawn up to the fulcrum and he wants to shout, he wants to run but he can’t do either. He’s frozen as he sees the rope snap and the crates start to fall.
There’s shouting.
Yelling.
The crates are falling.
It’s nauseating.
Dizzying.
The last he sees of Dean he’s shoving another man violently out of harm’s way so hard the other man flies off the dock and into the water.
The crates land on him and it’s the most awful sound Chuck has ever heard.
There’s a heartbeat of stillness and silence and then like everyone has been jolted with electricity at the same time they snap into action and men are shouting and running and they’re pulling broken wood boxes off Dean’s body (Dean’s body) and the blood… They’ve got him uncovered and blood is already running from his nose and his mouth and his ears. He’s not moving and Chuck thinks he’s already dead.
He prays he’s already dead.
Chuck slides through time and space again, wishing that he could leave the sight of Dean broken and bloody behind him when he shifted but it dives into his brain and holds on like a spiked sliver sliding into flesh, unable to be removed without taking chunks with it.
Dean has been moved to Collinwood. Chuck finds himself in the same room as Dean. Dean’s broken body is stretched out on a small bed. Chuck has to remind himself he’s dreaming of the past and they probably didn’t realize the amount of damage they did moving Dean, jostling him through the streets of Collinsport, moving him up the stairs of Collinwood. One of the men from the docks stands in the doorway, tight-faced and grim, keeping watch. The housekeeper is a stern faced yet beautiful woman and she is gentle as she fixes the pillows around Dean’s head and she runs a hand down his face. She knows him, Chuck realizes. She touches Dean’s arm, the unmangled one, and lightly holds his fingers, and Chuck sees she likes him too. She smoothes his brow and leans in close to whisper in his ear. It’s not loud enough that the dock foreman can hear, but it is loud enough for Chuck to listen in.
“I’ve sent the footmen to fetch Castiel. He’s coming. I know he’s coming as fast as he can. Please wait for him, if you can. Please.”
She knows Chuck realizes. She knows about Dean and Castiel.
Doctor Singer arrives and the foreman is ushered outside. The housekeeper, Ellen, stands back and lets him begin his examination. He runs his hands over all of Dean’s body and his face gets more and more bleak as he does. He rests his ear on Dean’s chest for a few rattly breaths and he peels Dean’s eyelids back for a look at his irises. The way Dean’s body moves as it’s prodded and poked… it’s broken. Chuck turns away from the grisly sight, staring out the small window at the expanse of the Collinwood estate.
After a time, Chuck can hear the loud boom of the front door downstairs being thrown open and then the fast staccato of Castiel’s boots on the marble hallway and wooden stairs as he runs. He reaches the room with Dean, Singer and Ellen and pushes the door open. Singer is pulling a blanket up and over Dean to his shoulders.
“What happened?” Castiel’s out of breath and wide-eyed and then his eyes fix on Dean, laid out, pale, unmoving.
The foreman is behind Castiel and he coughs to get his attention but Castiel doesn’t turn around, doesn’t take his eyes off Dean.
“A rope, it snapped. The entire lot came down on him. He saved Jeremiah’s life, but he… there wasn’t time…”
The doctor swallows and turns to Ellen.
“Perhaps, if you would be so kind and you know the information, letters should be sent to his family immediately.”
“Yes,” Ellen nods, eyes flitting over to Dean, then Castiel and back to the doctor.
“If possible, they should make arrangements to come presently with haste.”
Ellen nods again. “I will see it done.” She moves to leave but pauses by Castiel, her hand coming out to rest on his, her fingers tightening, her eyes dark and liquid. Castiel spares her a quick glance and what he sees in her eyes (death, death, death has come calling) makes his breath hitch.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers and she is gone, the door shutting softly behind her.
Castiel blinks rapidly in succession, red lines beginning to thread through the whites of his eyes, unshed tears of shock and disbelief making the blue of his irises painfully bright and clear. He stares at Doctor Singer who is steeling himself.
Castiel starts shaking his head before the doctor even starts.
“What must be done?” Castiel asks. It sounds like he’s speaking with a barrel of rocks on his chest, the words being forced out painfully. “Tell me and I’ll see to it.”
“My boy,” Singer starts and Castiel takes a step away from him.
“No.”
“His back is broken. As are both his legs.”
“He’s still alive.”
“I hope for his sake he does not stay that way for long.”
Castiel squeezes his eyes shut and Chuck wishes he were anywhere else but trapped in this room.
“Don’t say that!”
Doctor Singer does not flinch at the volume nor the fist shaking in his face. “He’s broken some of his ribs as well as his collarbone and most of his left arm although it’s hardly of consequence at this point. His internal structure… the damage that was inflicted… he is beyond medicine.”
“No, there must be something. You will send word to Boston. They have more knowledgeable practitioners there. I can pay them whatever they wish.” Castiel’s voice has a keening quality to it that makes the hairs on Chuck’s neck stand up.
“I will send for them if you so desire, but they will not be able to help.”
Castiel shakes his head again and it’s the frantic movements of a person trying desperately to make their brain process something it can’t. He pushes his hands through his hair, making it stick out at impossible angles. He presses the heels of his hands to his eyes and pushes hard against the soft tissue.
Doctor Singer takes a small bottle with a dropper out of his bag and sets it on the nightstand.
“If he wakes, he will most likely be in a great deal of pain. The laudanum will help. I will prepare a stronger dose immediately and bring it over as soon as it’s ready. This one wasn’t meant for… it’s not enough. When I bring the new batch tomorrow morning, there is… You need not worry about administering too much.” Doctor Singer gives him a pointed look.
Castiel’s hands are at his side and he’s staring at the small bottle on the nightstand like it’s poison. The doctor’s words may be lost on Castiel but Chuck hears the message loud and clear.
“It would be best for him if he did not wake,” the doctor finishes. Castiel turns his face away.
Doctor Singer pauses at the door, as though there’s more he wants to say but he leaves without making a sound.
Chuck doesn’t know where to look as Castiel falls to his knees beside the bed and starts sobbing soundlessly. It’s horrible to watch. His chest heaves, his palms pressed hard to the floor but no sound escapes. At first, it’s like his grief is so painful he cannot even form tears and it’s just this dreadful, dry crying jag, shoulders shaking, mouth agape. Castiel lungs are pushing out wretched gags and he can’t even stop to breathe in. Just when Chuck thinks Castiel will pass out from lack of oxygen, he pulls in a harsh breath and starts the process all over again, only now there are tears.
Chuck didn’t know the body could cry like that without breaking.
Castiel’s forehead is resting on the floor, his body bent in half. One of his hands snakes up over the side of the bed, finds Dean’s fingers and holds on.
Chuck wishes the ground would open up and swallow him whole. He can barely watch but he feels like he has to, like his sole purpose in coming back here, to this moment, to this hideous, ghastly moment, is to bear witness.
If Castiel could stand to live through it, then Chuck can stand to watch.
He’s not sure how much time passes, how long Castiel stays curled up on the floor, his fingers holding onto Dean’s. The sky has gone dark with night, the moon low and yellow in the sky. A harvest moon. It fills Chuck with terror to see it so large and looming. He can understand why ancient man feared the sky.
The soundless, wracking sobs have shifted to silent, streaming tears. Castiel’s on his side now, face pressed into the floorboards, tears running over the bridge of his nose and out of the corner of his eyes and seeping into the wood. Chuck’s so focused on Castiel that he misses Dean’s fingers twitching around Castiel’s.
Castiel’s on his knees and leaning over Dean so fast it’s like he’s been struck by lightning. Dean’s green eyes are only half open but they’ve immediately found Castiel and are focused on him. Dean’s lips are moving but no sound comes out.
Castiel knows what questions Dean would ask first and is answering without even having to hear them. “You’re at Collinwood. No one else was hurt.”
Dean closes his eyes in understanding and relief. When he opens them again, they’ve retained their precision focus on Castiel. His fingers tighten slightly on Castiel’s and Castiel leans in closer, tilting his head to place his ear close to Dean’s lips. In the stillness of the room, the oppressive quiet, Chuck can hear Dean’s question easily.
Dying?
Castiel can’t answer. His face contorts with emotion and he drops his head to the mattress wordlessly. Dean blinks a few times as he processes the non-verbal response. His arm is the one part of him that’s not crushed or broken and he’s able to pull his fingers out of Castiel’s grasp so that he can push them into the dark softness of Castiel’s hair and massage his fingertips into Castiel’s scalp.
Castiel sits up slowly and traps Dean’s uninjured hand between his own and holds it close to his lips.
“The doctor left laudanum. Do you need some?”
Yes.
Castiel takes the small bottle and dropper and carefully places small liquid pearls into Dean’s mouth. His hands shake as he places the bottle back on the nightstand. Dean doesn’t sleep so much as drift in and out of consciousness. The night is long, eerily so, broken up only by Ellen bringing in pitchers of both hot and cold water and some dinner for Castiel. Ellen pulls a chair over close to the bed for Castiel and he wipes Dean’s face with a hot cloth and uses a separate clean cloth to wet his lips and tongue with cold water.
He leaves his dinner untouched on the dresser.
Dean stirs every so often and Castiel gives him additional laudanum. Chuck doesn’t think it dulls the pain so much as clouds over Dean’s senses. Dean’s breathing has a wet rattle to it, clotty and dark. A few times he’s heaved up a load of blood and it spills out of his mouth and over his lips, staining his teeth red. Castiel says nothing as he cleans Dean up carefully.
Chuck wishes Dean would die. He knows that’s how this ends. He just didn’t expect it to take so long. Dean makes it through the night and when the sun starts peeking into the sky, Chuck stands by the window and watches it rise. He feels like it shouldn’t be a sunny day. It shouldn’t promise to be such a nice day with Dean’s wet breathing echoing through his ears.
Doctor Singer comes by sometime after breakfast which consisted of a plate of toast and tea that Castiel didn’t even glance at. Singer’s surprise and disappointment that Dean is still alive is visible on his face. Chuck knows they’re all thinking the same thing. Ellen, Singer and himself. Everyone except Castiel.
They’re all wishing Dean would hurry up and die.
Singer sets a new bottle on the nightstand.
“This solution is much stronger than the other one,” he says gruffly and Chuck can see the doctor willing to make himself understood without saying the words out loud. “If you give the same amount… well, at this point, it would help him the most.”
Castiel doesn’t look up at the doctor, but his eyes are fixed on both small bottles on the worn wood of the nightstand. Doctor Singer pauses to say something to Ellen who is standing just outside the doorway, watching silently. She nods grimly as the doctor takes his leaves. She comes to stand behind Castiel and places her hand on his shoulder. He’s slumped down in the chair, legs splayed out at awkward angles. It’s clear from his eyes that he hasn’t slept all night. They are red-rimmed and bright, the blue of his irises painfully stark.
“You should rest,” says Ellen softly, calmly. “And eat something. I will have the cook prepare anything you wish.”
“I can’t… I’m not hungry.”
“Go rest. I will stay with him.”
“If I leave and he… while I’m gone if he…”
Her knuckles turn white as her grip on his shoulder increases. “I can have the footmen bring a bed in here.”
His hand comes up to rest over hers. “No, the chair is fine.”
His fingers tighten over hers for a moment and Chuck sees something terrible flash over Castiel’s eyes and a sick dread curls in Chuck’s stomach.
“There is perhaps something… I do not… I must leave for a while.”
“Yes,” Ellen agrees. “Go to your quarters and I will stay with him.”
“No, I must go out.” Castiel stands and sways slightly until his legs steady underneath him. “You will stay with him?”
“Of course.”
“Don’t leave him. Don’t leave him alone,” Castiel pleads and Ellen shakes her head.
“I will not.”
Castiel leans over Dean and whispers in his ear. “Please wait for me. I… there may be… you must wait for me to return.”
Time slides again and Chuck goes with it willingly, relieved to be leaving Dean’s deathbed behind him.
Castiel is pounding on a door, fist high and strong and he’s yelling.
“Ruby! Let me in! Ruby!”
A harried butler answers the door and Castiel pushes him aside and strides in screaming Ruby’s name. She appears at the top of the stairs, looking calm and serene and Castiel takes the stairs three at a time and in a moment he’s at the top, crushing her arms in a painful grip.
“You know things, do you not? You can do things.” He pulls her close to him and hisses. “Unnatural things.”
She smiles at him and with a wave dismisses the butler. “It’s alright, Forster. Mr. Collins and I have business.”
The butler crosses himself and scurries off, eager to be away from his deranged mistress. Ruby starts walking backward and beckons Castiel to follow her with the crook of her finger.
When they enter the room, Castiel gasps at what he sees and even though Chuck’s not really there, Chuck’s just dreaming, he nearly pukes.
The stench is horrible. Death, decay, rotting things. There’s a table in one corner with a copper bowl and small animal bones are strewn about, blood mixed in. There’s a small cage in another corner and inside it are rats, clawing overtop of one another making horrid squeaking noises in the dark.
The room is nearly void of light save for a few candelabra burning inside chalk circles etched with strange symbols. Ruby has a dark alter set up at the far end of the room. A cross hangs upside down over it and strange words are inscribed on the black banners that hang over it. Chuck thinks that no matter what the witch trials would have done to Ruby, they should have just handed her over.
Like the butler downstairs, Castiel crosses himself.
“My God,” he murmurs.
“Oh you won’t find him here. I’ve brought just about every other creature of power to bow before me but not him, never him. He’s not the helpful sort.” She steps over to her alter, offers it a little bow and then turns to face Castiel, draping her arms across the alter table. “Now, what can I do for you?”
“You know what has happened.”
She makes a tut-tut sound. “Yes, terrible accident. I hear he still lives. He must be strong.”
Castiel is too exhausted and emotionally overrun to hear the venom in her voice, but Chuck hears it. Chuck sees how her fingers clench and unclench almost against her will.
“Heal him. Make him live. Can you do it?”
She pauses like she’s thinking, hips swaying girlishly. “Possibly. It would take very powerful magic. But…” she levels her dark eyes at him. “What’s my return?”
“I’ll marry you,” Castiel says without hesitation, the words snapped out immediately. He would promise anything to save Dean, Chuck realizes and he already made his decision before he came here.
Ruby smiles. “Deal.”
Chuck shivers and at this point, even though he knows he’s not really there, he’s just watching, he crosses himself as well.
“All deals must be sealed,” Ruby says, leaning further forward.
“How?” Castiel barks. He’s not interested in prolonging anything. He needs to save Dean and whatever he needs to do, he’s prepared.
“A kiss.”
He grimaces slightly at that but grabs her brutally around the waist and presses his lips hard to hers. She flings her arms around him enthusiastically and pulls him close, pushing her breasts into his chest.
He shoves her away and she stumbles slight, a smile playing on her lips.
“I always knew that underneath your gentlemanly exterior you would like it rough.”
“Shut up and get to work.”
***
Ruby’s chanting over the copper bowl. She threw in a melange of items, all fetid and rotten, and stirred them with her extra long pinky nail. The nail makes a horrible scratching sound against the copper that leaves Chuck cringing in the corner. Castiel is pacing back and forth, trying not to let his eyes focus on any of Ruby’s dark paraphernalia. Ruby lights some dead moss from a candle and tosses the smoldering mess into the chunky, soupy mixture she has in the bow.
Chuck prays really hard that Castiel will not have to drink it, but it doesn’t look good.
Ruby has two copper chalices and she scoops up some of soppy liquid into one, a long string of something hanging over the edge of the cup and Ruby plucks it free and it lands back in the copper bowl with a ‘thwack.’
Chuck dry heaves a little.
She pours the mixture from one chalice to the other as she chants. Chuck thinks it might be Latin or something similar to Latin. Every so often it’s like he thinks he almost understands the words.
Ruby cuts a lock of her hair, sets it alight too and tosses it into the copper bowl.
It sizzles and bubbles as it hits and a wet air pocket seeps up through the mess and pops with a mucky ‘thwop.’
Chuck dry heaves again.
Ruby pours the contents of both chalices back into the copper bowl and beckons Castiel over. He stands off to the side of her alter, his mouth is turned down in grim distaste but also determination. She passes him one of the chalices.
Oh shit, thinks Chuck. He is going to have to drink it.
Ruby doesn’t say anything to Castiel but indicates with a jerk of her head that he should hold the chalice. She steps off to the side and then grips his hip, moving him over into position in front of the altar. She places his other hand on the other chalice.
She’s still chanting softly as she steps over to the rat cage.
Chuck gets a little bit of bile in his throat this time when he heaves. Castiel doesn’t move.
Ruby pulls two of the squirming, squealing rats out of the cage. She pets them fondly and brings them over to the altar.
She sets one down and quick as a flash, impales its tail with a knife, keeping it in one spot on the altar. Castiel’s eyes narrow, but he doesn’t flinch. Ruby takes the other rat, and with the knife, slits its throat quickly, holding it over the copper bowl and draining it. It squirms and writhes for a while and with a cruel twist of her wrist, Ruby wrings it out like a dishcloth, bobbing it up and down a few times to get all the blood.
Chuck feels dizzy.
Ruby stands in front of the altar, Castiel behind it. She places one hand on each of his, on the chalice. She keeps chanting as she looks at him and guides one of his hands to scoop up the rank liquid with the chalice and then pour it into the other one. They pour back and forth nine times and then empty both back into the copper bowl.
“Now, drink three times from the bowl.”
Chuck feels his lip break out in a cold, sick sweat.
Castiel doesn’t flinch. He picks up the bowl with both hands assuredly and takes three drinks from the bowl. He sets it down and has to put a fist over his mouth to keep the liquid from coming back up.
He looks at Ruby questioningly.
“Kill the rat by biting its neck and drinking the blood.”
Castiel does flinch this time but he takes the knife out of the rat’s tail, picks up the twisting creature, and holds in front of himself. His eyes flick back over to Ruby, painfully blue and intense. She nods once.
He snaps his teeth on the rat and breaks the skin. It shrieks loudly. Blood runs down his chin and he stares at Ruby.
Chuck vomits.
The rat falls silent and Castiel puts it back down on the altar. He stumbles backward, wipes at his face with the back of his hand and smears blood across it. He falls to the ground. Ruby steps around the altar and stands over him.
“I think it will hurt. I think it will hurt quite a bit actually.”
Castiel’s limbs are folding in on themselves, harsh spasms force them back out again. His head lolls back and smacks the floor hard. It’s like a grand-mal seizure. He thrashes, his fingers locked in a painful curl, his back arching backward, gagging noises coming from his lips and he starts to foam at the mouth.
Through it all Ruby stands over him and watches calmly. She hardly blinks and isn’t even tense.
Castiel bends in half and jerks backward again, popping noises coming from his spine.
He stops.
It’s silent.
Chuck can’t even hear Castiel breathing.
Chuck realizes that’s because Castiel isn’t breathing.
Ruby leans over him with the curious face of a scholar puzzling out a problem.
Castiel sits up and Ruby jumps back slightly.
“Smile for me, lover.”
He does.
His fangs are white in the candlelight and razor sharp. His tongue darts out across them and he cuts it on the sharp edges.
Ruby claps her hands together gleefully and spins herself in a circle. “It worked, it worked, it worked,” she squeals happily.
She sounds like the rat did.
Castiel is turning his hands over, examining them like he’s never seen them before. He looks down at his body, then back at Ruby. In the time it takes Chuck to blink, Castiel is on his feet and looming. He seems taller, fiercer. Ruby leans back away from him as he towers over her, her eyes darting around quickly, checking for an escape route. She trembles slightly as if she’s just realized what she’s done. She’s turned an enemy into a predator, and now she’s trapped in a room with him. The air feels like sharp edges against Chuck’s skin.
Castiel’s eyes appear to glow in the dark, eerie blue and clear. Ruby’s fascinated with them, her own dark irises darting back and forth staring at them. Castiel grabs Ruby’s arms and she flinches. Ruby has a small dagger in her hands and she holds it up to Castiel.
“Cut your hand.”
He grabs it and slices the palm of his hand open easily. They both watch in fascination as the wound seals itself shut and his blood soaks back into his skin. Ruby claps her hands again and squeals, her earlier fear forgotten
Castiel throws the knife and it embeds itself unerringly in the window sill, its hilt vibrating slightly.
“Now, tell me how to heal him.”
***
It’s dark now. Castiel lost hours in Ruby’s lair.
Castiel has blood down the front of his shirt and the footmen stare at him in horror as he runs up the stairs. Ellen jumps up from the chair where she has been keeping vigil since Castiel left.
“Oh. Sweet Jesus, what have you done?” she whispers, her hands covering her lips.
“Leave.”
She makes the sign of the cross over herself as well and Chuck feels frantic laughter bubble up in his chest. If that gesture made a lick of difference, they wouldn't be in this mess. Castiel kneels beside the bed and carefully grabs Dean by his one good shoulder.
“Dean.”
Silence.
”Dean.”
Chuck feels the power behind his voice. He sees Castiel’s eyes widen as he realizes it too. Dean’s eyelids flicker and then his lids open halfway. As before, his eyes find Castiel immediately. Dean’s eyes are cloudy and confused at first and then he sees the difference in his lover and they widen slightly.
He hasn’t enough breath to form sound and his lips barely move, but his words seem painfully clear enough.
What have you done?
Castiel’s fingers tighten on Dean’s shoulder and tears start to fall from Castiel’s eyes.
“I had to. To save you. I can save you now. But I need you to tell me you want this. I need you to tell me…” His breath hitches.
What?
Castiel pulls his lips back from his teeth and Dean sees the fangs. He blinks once, then again.
Ruby.
“Please. Please, I had to. I can’t… You can’t… Please, tell me yes. Say yes.”
He’s openly sobbing now, fat tears rolling down his cheek and landing on the bed. He drops his head to the mattress and his shoulders shake. As before, Dean cards his fingers through his hair, slower this time, even this small effort becoming too much. Castiel is begging Dean still, broken, half formed words of pleading being pushed out of his lips. Dean’s fingers tighten imperceptibly on Castiel’s dark hair and Castiel turns his bloodshot blue eyes back to Dean.
Yes.
Castiel leans forward quickly and places a fierce kiss on Dean’s lips. He pulls back and threads his fingers through Dean’s hair.
“I have to…,” he looks away, ashamed. “I have to drink from you.”
Dean closes his eyes and turns his head slightly, baring his neck as much as possible for him in his broken state. Castiel lowers his lips to Dean’s neck and places a rather chaste kiss on the skin, lips resting for a moment.
And then he bites.
Dean’s body stiffens in a natural response, and a moan of pain escapes his lips. Chuck can’t tell if it’s from the bite or if it’s from the rest of his body. Dean’s good hand comes up and cradles Castiel’s head, holding him close.
Finally, Chuck’s not sure how long it takes, Dean’s hand falls away from Castiel’s head, off the side of the mattress.
Minutes later, Castiel raises up, blood trailing down his chin. It’s pooled in the dip between Dean’s neck and shoulder, soaking the mattress through.
Castiel pulls his sleeve up, bites his own wrist and holds it over Dean’s lips, letting turgid globes of red drip past the parted skin. He waits.
Nothing happens.
Castiel waits longer.
Silence fills the room where there are no longer any sets of living lungs nor any living hearts beating. Just the dead and the undead.
Castiel bites at his wrist again, slashing open huge gaping wounds that leak black-red down his arm. He presses the bloody mess against Dean’s lips, smearing crimson across his sick-pale face.
He grabs Dean’s face harshly on either side and shakes him. He slaps him. He grips both shoulders, broken and unbroken and pulls him upright. His head lolls backward at a horrid angle, and his mouth falls open.
Dean is dead.
Castiel’s mouth opens and closes soundlessly and he jerks Dean toward him and holds him tightly. He sucks in air soundlessly and then screams.
***
They are back at Ruby’s and this time there’s murder in Castiel’s voice as he screams her name. He breaks down the door, throwing it aside like it’s made of paper. The butler gets pushed aside, falling on the floor with a thud and he scrambles backward and out of the way. At the top of the stairs, Ruby sees Castiel’s face and she starts back-peddling, her eyes wide and fearful.
“No! No you don’t understand! I had to!” she screams and she turns and starts running for her witchcraft room. She swivels her head to look behind her and doesn’t see Castiel and then she runs right into him.
Vampire quick now, he managed to get ahead of her and catch her. He’s got her cruelly by the arms and is squeezing.
“Ruby,” he breathes and Ruby shivers.
“No, you don’t understand. We couldn’t be together as long as he was alive. Don’t you see? So it had to be done, it had to be done!” She’s shrieking, high-pitched and off-key.
He drags her to her black alter and pushes her down on her knees. He grabs a fistful of her hair and twists painfully.
“Do you think any of them will come to your rescue now? Shall we wait to see who shows up to answer your begging?”
She’s clawing at his hands, nails raking down his skin leaving long trails that don’t even hurt him.
“But I did it for you, I did it for us. We can be together now, don’t you see? I’ll tell you how to turn me and I’ll tell you the truth this time and then we can always be together. Please”
He’s making soft shushing noises and stroking the side of her face, even as he grips her hair in a harsh fist.
“Promise me something,” he says softly.
“Yes! Anything, please, I’ll tell you how and we can be together. We’ll be unstoppable, you’ll see.”
He bends down and hisses in her ear, fangs out and flashing. “Promise me when you get to hell, you’ll never stop screaming.”
He snaps her neck before she can make another sound. She falls like a rag doll and he pushes her over in a graceless heap.
He pulls over the first candelabra he finds and it clatters to the floor. He takes the next one and sets fire to the banners hanging over the altar and then topples the entire altar onto its side, sending dark material flying everywhere. Black curtains hanging over every window blocking out the light catch flame easily and within minutes, the entire room is ablaze.
Castiel strides out of the room and down the stairs casually, stopping to speak to the wide-eyed butler who is gasping and stammering in shock at the front door.
“Your mistress is dead. I hope she burns for eternity.”
And that’s when Chuck wakes up.
Next Chapter - 10 - Concatenation